


press me to your heart

by zenelly



Series: let's stick these losers in a car [3]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-03 17:49:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12151728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenelly/pseuds/zenelly
Summary: Leorio and Kurapika share a moment late at night in one of many effectively identical hotel rooms.Leorio greedily accepts the attention, glad for a moment. Glad, until the black sucking hole of his thoughts that's been keeping him up rears its ugly head again. Damn it. Fuck. This is stupid.“Hey,” Kurapika murmurs. His fingers drag at just the right angle to set off a cascade of goosebumps along Leorio's skin.“Hey yourself.”





	press me to your heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is set at some nebulous point in the future of shimmer in your shine. I'll add an exact moment when one pops up, but the relevant details, to those of you who are new here, are these things:
> 
> 1) They're on a roadtrip with Gon and Killua and (eventually) Alluka, and 2) they get together at some point on this trip before this.
> 
> But hey, the heart wants what it wants, and what it wants is Kurapika, forever and always. The song that's referenced in the fic (and the title of this fic) is "La Vie en Rose" by Edith Piaff, which is a lovely song and I've been drowning myself in covers of it for the past three days.

The conclusion that Leorio has come to, after spending a month on the road in more than his share of hotel rooms, is that the ceiling of every hotel room is the same, minus a few cracks and water stains here and there. Beige and inoffensive and boring, lightly textured to give the eye a vague static to look at instead of the terrifying blankness of a flat surface and it's possible he's thinking about this too much. Especially at three in the morning. At least the boys and Alluka are in a separate room, Leorio having sprung for another room just for the chance at privacy. A chance for him and Kurapika to actually be alone.

Not that it's doing him much right now. If he could just-

-fucking-

- _sleep_.

This wouldn't even be a problem.

A brush of skin against his settles the worst of the never-ceasing electricity coursing through him, keeping him awake, and Leorio sighs. Leaning into it, he presses back, letting Kurapika know that the touch is welcome right now. There's a quiet shift. Then warmth, as arms encircle him, as Kurapika's body settles against his closer than before, as fingers drag through his hair, brushing loose strands back from his forehead. Leorio greedily accepts the attention, glad for a moment. Glad, until the black sucking hole of his thoughts that's been keeping him up rears its ugly head again. Damn it. Fuck. This is stupid.

“Hey,” Kurapika murmurs. His fingers drag at just the right angle to set off a cascade of goosebumps along Leorio's skin.

“Hey yourself.” Leorio clumsily reaches out, finding the smooth planes of Kurapika's hip and thigh and petting them gently. Is that weird? Petting your boyfriend like a dog? That's weird. Leorio's weird, damn it, he shouldn't do that. Fuck. His hand stills, taps a finger, two, against skin.

But Kurapika smiles, a grayscale tilt of skin visible in the moonlight slanting across the room. “You can keep doing that, you know.”

“Hm?”

“Petting me.”

Reflexively, Leorio snorts before he can think better of it, face heating. “It's not weird?”

“Mm, no, not weird. It's nice.”

Leorio's breath does a funny thing in his chest.

It tangles somewhere around the clench of his heart, hot and warm, familiar and unfamiliar at once. Leorio's still trying to get used to feeling it, to letting himself feel it, because it's not new. It is there, has been there, in every moment of every day. Every breath that he takes is tinged with it. It's not that Leorio can think of nothing else. That's a disservice to both himself and Kurapika. Leorio is perfectly capable of thinking of many things, and this hardly comes to his attention, but even that is more like white noise than anything else. A constant, something so common that he registers it automatically as silence until-

Well, until he notices it again.

Which happens to be every time he looks at Kurapika, sees the graceful bow of his mouth, the delicate wryness in his gaze, hears his muted sarcasm, his at-times callous nature protecting Kurapika's gentle and loyal core. Leorio notices every time their hands brush together, every time he hears Kurapika laugh, or sees him smile, no matter how quicksilver the expression. He remembers. And that remembering is like learning it for the first time all over again.

“You're thinking loudly,” Kurapika murmurs.

He remembers it now as his eyes trail over the fan of Kurapika's hair across the pillowcase to the twist of Kurapika's mouth that certainly hasn't faded from fond to concerned. The iron band around his lungs loosens the barest amount, allowing the words out. “I'm just... I really love you, you know.”

Kurapika blinks.

Then turns his face towards the pillow, burying himself against Leorio's shoulder as he makes a noise that sounds a little like steam escaping a kettle. “Why do you say things like that? It's too early for this, Leorio.”

“Kurapika,” Leorio says with a quiet laugh, “sometimes, you just say things because they're true.”

“You're embarrassing.”

“Because I said I love you?”

Kurapika makes that noise again, which sets Leorio's chest afire as it does the thing that means he's feeling a surge of affection, and Leorio smiles. “Don't- Why do you just-. God.”

Leorio's smile turns mischievous. Kurapika is unspeakably cute when he doesn't know what to do. It's not something that happens very often, or something that Kurapika lets other people see often, so he takes full advantage and trails his fingers lightly across Kurapika's skin, right at the boundary of his shirt and pants. “I'm sorry, the big guy upstairs isn't answering right now. We've rerouted your call to Leorio, his second in command-”

“Oh my god.”

“-and you can speak to him like you would the big man Himself. Feel free to ask any questions you might- ack!”

Kurapika surges up and slaps a hand over Leorio's mouth. “Nope, no more.”

“No fun is what you are,” Leorio says. It's muffled, though, and doesn't sound like that at all, but from the look on Kurapika's face, he understands perfectly, because Kurapika is clever and also the best.

They settle into a comfortable quiet once Kurapika carefully removes his hand, letting the dark of the room overtake them, weighing against tired eyelids, sinking into lungs. Kurapika shifts, rolling a bit more onto his side, then further up the pillows. Leorio moves with him, easy as anything. It's new, learning how to rearrange himself around the contours of another person. There's the uncomfortable collision here and there, hard edges digging into soft tissue, but eventually, things settle out with Leorio's head resting against Kurapika's chest, one of Kurapika's hands gently curved around his neck. Kurapika's fingers scratch through the short hairs at the back of Leorio's scalp, and he lets out a quiet, contented hum as the simple touch bypasses every internal security measure he even pretended to have.

And then something completely unexpected happens.

Kurapika begins to hum.

It's... softer than Leorio would have expected, if he could have ever seen this coming at all, which he couldn't, because _Kurapika is humming_. A whimsical, intimate melody, falling indulgently in its arpeggios, echoes through Kurapika's chest and throat, offset only by the pounding of his heart. Leorio presses close, closer, greedy. Kurapika allows it, indulgent for the moment. The song stays wordless, though Kurapika's voice clicks every once in a while, like he's contemplating singing, but as he continues and Leorio has time to get over the shock and also the sweet, gooey feeling swamping his insides, Leorio also realizes one other important thing:

He knows this song.

Leorio knows this song, and it stuns him. Heat floods his face. He's fairly certain that he isn't supposed to know it, but. He does. And the fact that right now, Kurapika is humming it for Leorio of all people is... telling, to say the least. Leorio takes a deep breath. Should he join in? If he does, he runs the risk of Kurapika stopping because he's embarrassed. If he doesn't, no harm is done, but.

Ah, fuck it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. If nothing else, it'll be a touching gesture from Leorio, and Kurapika is in sore need of those.

So when the melody meanders back to the top of the verse again, Leorio is ready.

“ _Hold me close and hold me fast_ ,” he begins to sing, and Kurapika's gentle hum falters immediately, fading below Leorio's rumbling baritone, “ _This magic spell you cast, this is la vie en rose_.”

Kurapika doesn't breathe for a moment. Then he laughs, short and embarrassed, covering his face even though Leorio has no hope of seeing the blush that's almost definitely there. “Oh god, you know this song. Of course you know this song.”

Leorio laughs just a little. “It's a jazz standard. Of course I do.”

Kurapika looks at him from between his fingers. “Your accent is atrocious.”

“No, my accent is _passable_. I've _heard_ atrocious before and it's all of this sung with a heavy southern twang.”

“Oh god. Please, never show me.”

“I could, though,” Leorio says with a terrible grin, leaning heavier into Kurapika for the sheer wonder that he can do it at all. His fingers wander, just a little, dipping into the crevice of Kurapika's hips, the shallow, soft curve of his waist, and Kurapika squirms.

Neither of them are sure if it's towards or away from the touch.

A charge, something like intent, fills the air.

Kurapika's eyes are dark. His mouth, full and lovely, presses into a thin line, and he watches Leorio with suspicion. Warningly, he says, “Leorio. Don't.”

Oh. But that is more like an engraved invitation to... do. Leorio extends his hand-

And very quickly reminds himself that Kurapika knows enough martial arts of at least two different schools that he can very easily break Leorio's jaw just by looking at him sideways, and finding himself pinned and underneath Kurapika for merely _threatening_ to tickle him shouldn't be nearly as attractive as it is. But, then again, that's the voice of a very small part of his brain that _isn't_ paying rapt attention to Kurapika literally _straddling_ Leorio right now. Very small and getting smaller.

Man, Kurapika is _hot,_ and Leorio is so fucking grateful, he could almost cry.

Kurapika wraps his hand around Leorio's wrist and it's.

Grounding.

Like this, Leorio feels weighed down and safe, the warm pressure of Kurapika’s body over his a welcome thing. He lets out a low breath as tension he didn’t even know he was carrying releases by degrees, unclenching its unwelcome hands from the tight knots of Leorio’s muscles as he sinks into the bed. Kurapika watches him with an unreadable expression before he smiles, just the barest amount, pleased.

“There you are,” he says, nonsensically.

“Here I am,” Leorio agrees without really knowing why. It just feels… right. To say, to stare up at Kurapika hovering over him, to let his wrists be held, to feel the steady pulse of Kurapika’s heart where they’re connected.

And then, slowly, achingly slow, Kurapika lowers his face to brush his lips against Leorio's.

It's hardly a kiss. More like the phantom of one that has Leorio leaning up, chasing the faint contact for as long as Kurapika will let him. The grip on his wrists doesn't abate, and so Leorio subsides back. Just as he gives in, Kurapika surges forward, and the kiss is firmer this time. Pressure and the wet push of tongue and the dull bite of teeth, and for it all, Leorio opens and takes what Kurapika gives him.

Leorio loses several minutes in this push-and-pull tidal recurve. Wonderful, beautiful minutes that he wouldn't take back even if he could. Kurapika kisses like an avalanche, and it isn't until Kurapika pulls his mouth away, laughing slightly, that Leorio realizes he said that out loud.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Kurapika tilts his head, lovely lips slanted into a smile behind the curtain of his hair.

Leorio tries to follow Kurapika up for more kisses as he answers. He doesn't get all the way up there, contents himself with mouthing at the curve of Kurapika's jaw. “Yeah, duh. Saying you're a force of nature is always a compliment.”

Kurapika hums, not entirely convinced, but he lets Leorio find his mouth anyway and overwhelms him once more, opening hungrily. As always, Kurapika is never to be outdone and he gives as good as he gets, even though this, here, is still so new between them. There's still an air of hesitation, like they're getting away with something they shouldn't, something forbidden, but hesitation never accounted for Kurapika.

Heat builds in the reflexive shift of their bodies, Leorio's hips rolling upwards with demanding instinct. He's met with an answering thrust from Kurapika. The brush of hardness against hardness, even through the layers of clothes, sparks a fire, a rush of answering motion that keeps Leorio fully occupied as Kurapika gasps into his mouth.

It's a sudden, sweet noise.

Something so simple shouldn't make goosebumps race down the entirety of Leorio's body, shouldn't stoke the arousal burning in him hotter and heavier, but damn it does. Leorio's next kiss is more teeth, harder, slanted across Kurapika's mouth as he asks, wordlessly for more.

And Kurapika, the undisputed leader of their shaky rhythm, obliges. He shifts slightly, centering his weight more over Leorio's cock, and the next drag of their hips together is torturous bliss and only getting better. They don't stop kissing, even though the target of kissing shifts from mouths to throats and shoulders and jaws and ears and everything within reach as they just indulge. Just for the moment. Just for now, because their next hotel stop is probably going to involve all five of them in a hotel room together again. Leorio doesn't begrudge the kids time with them, but damn it, he's _twenty-three_ with a _new boyfriend_.

He has _needs_.

There's _so much_ he wants to do.

They hardly have time for any of it, at least tonight. Tonight, Kurapika holds Leorio's wrists to the bed and grounds him there as they move together, until the heat between them is too much to bear. Leorio comes with a shuddering groan, pleasure whiting out his brain for a while, but not enough that he can't watch Kurapika. He can't miss Kurapika's mouth falling open in a soundless gasp, the drag of teeth against his mouth, the increasingly desperate grinds as Kurapika eagerly works himself to completion against Leorio's body.

The entire time, his grip on Leorio's wrists remains, and Leorio's heart goes tender in the best way over this ridiculous boy.

Kurapika moves off him, slumping to the side as he finally releases Leorio. He makes a face as he moves, almost sits up, then flops back to the bed. Despondently, he looks at Leorio. “My underwear is disgusting,” he says.

“Well,” Leorio begins, but a finger against his lips stops him from saying anything else.

“Shh. No excuses. Just you getting up and fixing it, since I did all the work.”

Leorio laughs quietly, tracing a finger down Kurapika's face. “That's your own fault. I would've happily taken your pants off.”

“Too late now. Now you get to clean me.”

“Oh no,” Leorio says, voice dry as he levers himself up and towards the bathroom. “I have to see you with your clothes off. What a terrible punishment. Oh no.”

Kurapika's laugh keeps him company as he gathers some toilet paper and wets a hand towel (it's like hotel staff just _knows_ what people get up to in their rooms and okay he's not thinking about it anymore because _gross_ ), judiciously cleaning himself off while he has the opportunity. Leorio goes back and cleans Kurapika with gentle touches before removing both of their now-stained underwear and tossing it towards their bags.

A muffled, offended noise.

“I'm getting you clean ones, don't worry,” Leorio says, placating, as he does just that.

Being clothed and not-sticky does wonders for Kurapika's mood, and as Leorio slides back into bed, he's immediately enveloped by Kurapika's arms as his boyfriend (!!) snuggles up to him again. Leorio shifts with him, stretching out one arm behind Kurapika's head. Like this, Kurapika is pillowed on his shoulder, and if he curls his arm, he can play with Kurapika's hair, and really, it's a win-win all around.

If only the ceilings looked different.

Fuck.

And he's back here again, the clicking, ratcheting groans from his head starting to overpower even Leorio's post-orgasmic haze. Come on, bad brainfeels, can't you be polite for two seconds and wait until the afterglow fades? No? Damn but brain chemicals are bullshit.

And then, quietly, a second miracle of the night happens.

“ _Quand il me prend dans ses bras_ ,” Kurapika sings, his voice curling around the French words effortlessly. “ _Il me parle tout bas, je vois_ _la vie en rose_ _._ ”

The song wends its easy, lingering way around them, and Leorio lets himself relax, lets the tiredness of the road fall from his shoulders with every inch of weight of Kurapika's body against his own, and finally, like this, taken up by Kurapika in every sense, he succumbs to slumber.

(But just before he does, there is a gentle kiss amidst the French lyrics, and that sends Leorio off with a smile.)

 

 


End file.
